


Track Seven

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Arguing, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, M/M, Some Virgil ANgst, brief skin picking, just poor emotional coping in general, logan doesn't understand emotions and It Shows, taking out your unresolved issues on your friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 23:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19345168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Logan has a minor crisis, resulting in a major crisis, followed by a total blow out and finally, a resolution.Too bad we can’t just skip to the resolution.





	Track Seven

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a dumb reference to the musical "Merrily We Roll Along" because i've been trying to title this for a week and gave up

Logan hadn’t actually been able to see the card Virgil had made for Patton when they’d all exchanged gifts. Not until after.

And it hadn’t really… registered, he supposed, not until later still, when he’d been in his own room and dwelling, exasperated  ~~and not amused or fond at all~~  on the events of the day.

On the gifts, a small twinge of worry that Virgil maybe hadn’t enjoyed his gift quite so much as Logan had  ~~hoped~~  assumed he would, especially when everyone else’s gift had been hand-made. Logan had been the only one to arrive with a store-bought gift, and Virgil himself had succeeded so well with Patton’s. Patton had been delighted, and Virgil’s calligraphy had been-

And then, picturing it in his head, it finally occurred to Logan what Virgil had actually written, and then he thought of Patton’s expression and then- and then-

Well.

Honestly, fuck emotions.

* * *

Logan was furious with himself, frankly.

He could barely bring himself to admit he was friends with the others on even his most effusive days. The fact that he had, however subconsciously, ascribed one of them the title of ‘best’ without noticing, and done so ardently enough that he could feel…  _negatively_ about the idea of being- being-

‘Replaced’ was what he thought he wanted to say, but that wasn’t really accurate, was it? After all, the title had only ever existed in the deepest confines of his own mind, unknown even to him.

And the fact that he’d, even unintentionally, chosen  _Patton_  was-

Patton was an objectively terrible choice. Not as a best friend in general, certainly he’d excel at friendship with the vast majority of the population, but a terrible choice for Logan specifically. They didn’t get along. They disagreed on a wide variety of topics, and even when they agreed on an end-case conclusion they had vastly different methods of approaching it.

Roman would be a slightly better choice, both of them being rather… intense, at times. 

(But Roman had rewritten the lyrics to the song and he, too, had given the designation to Virgil, so clearly-)

And Virgil would make the  _most_ sense, obviously, by far.

(Although when the thought first occurred to Logan it came hand in hand with the fact that he’d be in the same situation regardless, and he snuffed out the brief flare of panic before it could draw anyone else in the mindscape’s attention)

They had similar energy levels (which is to say, low ones), a tendency to make decisions based on outside factors rather than internal ones (although Virgil did tend to think a lot of his own internal reactions  _were_  external, in Logan’s opinion) and Logan had faced both of them as direct opposition and enjoyed doing so with Virgil  _far_ more than he had Patton.

But that was just it, wasn’t it? Logan usually disagreed with Patton.

And he always,  _always_  hated it.

With Virgil is was much easier to remain rational, and when Virgil  _had_ gotten a rise out of him it had been relatively simple, regaining his composure.

But when he argued with Patton, the was no composure to regain, because the second Patton turned that  ~~frustrating~~   ~~endearing~~   ~~maddening~~   ~~upsetting~~  disapproving expression on him Logan was suddenly seized with a desire to  _make him understand_  that bordered on desperation.

It was a decidedly emotional reaction, and one Logan usually could only barely contain behind a veneer of insistent facts and a  ~~loud~~ slightly raised voice.

And Logan had  _known_  all of these things, but he’d attributed it to Patton’s inherently emotional nature being naturally frustrating to all of Logic’s attempts at, well – logic.

Not that Logan had been subconsciously trying to- what? Gain Patton’s approval? His respect? His attention or his favor or his…  _friendship?_

Well. Whatever Logan had been trying to gain, he clearly hadn’t. And now that he knew where it stemmed from, this… baffling, nonsensical idea that Patton was Logan’s best friend, he could shut  _that_  line of emotion off like a leaky faucet and never have to worry about it again.

( _Because that had worked so well so far,_  said something deep and quiet in Logan’s brain that sounded treacherously like Virgil.

Logan promptly told it to shut the hell up.)

* * *

It turned out that Logan didn’t have nearly as much control over his emotional responses as he used to. Or maybe he’d never had as much control over them as he thought, and it was only that this particular emotion was so overwhelming and all-encompassing and downright  _insistent_  that it fairly blew past whatever comparatively feeble restraints Logan had.

Over the following weeks and months he became extraordinarily irritable, snapping both around the mindscape and during videos, at anybody who so much as spoke too loudly. It made him counterproductive to anything they tried to accomplish, put strain on all of them, and turned what had been a slightly chaotic home into a veritable war zone.

(And emotions, emotions everywhere, impossible to ignore because Logan felt  _awful,_  awful and mean and petty and every time Virgil’s face flashed with hurt before curling into a scowl or Roman spat out something just as vicious in response or Patton looked at Logan with what Logan could only imagine was profound disappointment Logan felt like he wanted to cry or scream or possibly sleep for a year)

Logan had never felt less in control of himself.

And the worst part was that he knew he had no right to be upset. Just because Logan’s finicky and strange emotional responses had decided to designate Patton his best friend didn’t mean Patton had reciprocated. In fact, there was absolutely  _no logical way_ Patton had ever considered him anything more than a grudging coworker or a particularly frustrating distant relative at best.

And even if Patton had at one point considered Logan his friend, best or otherwise, well – friendship was a relationship, it was based in emotions, and Logan was clearly terrible at it. Of  _course_  Patton would choose someone else over Logan. Logan could barely be considered a viable choice to begin with.

Patton didn’t  _belong_  to Logan. He never had. Logan hadn’t lost him, because Patton was never his.

* * *

The…  _puppet fiasco_  had calmed the tension in the mindscape for a grand total of three days.

Said third day ended with furious row between Roman and Logan that Logan, truthfully, could not even remember the beginning of. Or, frankly, most of what he’d said.

But he did remember the  _last_  thing he’d said, which hadn’t been to Roman at all, but Virgil.

“Can you two  _please_  take a chill pill before I tear my hair out and then  _yours_?” Virgil had snapped.

“ _Nobody asked you, Anxiety,_ ” Logan had snarled back.

The room had gone as silent as the vacuum of space, and Virgil had looked at Logan, totally impassive.

Logan for his part, felt his white-hot anger dissipate like a popped balloon, only to be replaced with horror and icy, cloying shame.

He ought to apologize – even Logan could intuit that much – but he couldn’t even seem to move, let alone speak. He and Virgil stared at each other, equally blank, and then Virgil had stood up from the table and walked, calm and completely silent, out of the room.

A beat, and then another, and then the door to Virgil’s room slammed shut so loudly the entire mindscape shook with it.

Another beat, shorter, and Roman turned back to Logan with a look that surpassed his previous rage by an order of magnitude.

“What the  _fuck is wrong with you?_ ”

“I don’t know,” said Logan, which was a lie, but also not. Logan knew the source of the emotion, now at least. But he had no idea why it was so impossible to get a handle on, or why it insisted on lunging out of him at his family like a cornered animal.

“Oh, you don’t know, great, fantastic,” spat Roman, “Be sure to tell that to Virgil when you give him whatever sorry excuse of an apology your robotic ass comes up with,”

Rather than storm off, Roman simply sank out, which had a sort of finality to it that made Logan want to  ~~cry~~  do nothing,  _nothing_ , it didn’t matter. It was irrelevant, the method that Roman chose to use to leave.

Something bubbled in Logan’s chest, and without the slightest conscious input from him a frustrated scream left his mouth.

A final moment of silence, and then-

“Logan,” came a soft, sad voice, and Logan went very still, because he had somehow managed to forget that there was one more person in the room.

And then, because Logan was  ~~a coward~~  not equipped for this, he sank out without looking at Patton at all.

* * *

Logan knew he had to apologize to Virgil. He was, however, completely lost as to when he ought to do it. Surely he should try as soon as possible, rather than allow Virgil to continue to believe Logan wasn’t contrite, but also he very much doubted that Virgil wanted to see him at the moment.

(He also knew it didn’t really matter, because Roman was right about any apology Logan attempting probably being a  _sorry excuse_  of one. He was still going to do it, just on principle, but the knowledge that he had almost certainly irreparably damaged his relationship with Virgil  ~~was unpleasant~~ _hurt._ It hurt. It hurt and he hated it.)

So Logan was alternating between frantically trying to calculate the optimal time lapse between a grievous offense and subsequent apology and trying desperately  ~~not to cry~~  to maintain his composure.

Someone knocked on his door.

Logan held his breath, pointlessly, because he wasn’t real and didn’t need to breath to begin with, but somehow he’d stumbled on the irrational idea that if he was very quiet whoever it was might assume he’d fallen asleep and leave him to  ~~wallow in his misery~~  contemplate a correct course of action.

“Logan,” came Patton’s voice, uncharacteristically solemn, “Please open the door,”

Logan was seized with the sudden terror that Patton might have brought Virgil with him, in order to prompt Logan’s apology, and Logan had nothing prepared because he’d been too concerned with trying to figure out  _when_  he was supposed to apologize, but he could not have ignored Patton at that moment if he’d tried.

He crossed the room, still silent, and clicked the knob of his door, opening it a few inches and looking out without making eye contact. He felt like a reprimanded child.

“Hey, Teach,” said Patton wearily, “Can I come in?”

It was only barely a request, and they both knew it.

Logan couldn’t quite bring himself to speak, but he stepped back, opening the door. Patton entered the room.

The room itself was immaculate as always, not least because Logan had a tendency to organize when he was  ~~upset~~  operating less than optimally. Patton, slightly disheveled, with bags under his eyes and an impossibly weary expression, looked entirely out of place.

(Because this room was Logan’s, a reflection of him,  _Logic_ , and Patton didn’t belong here, metaphorically or literally, didn’t belong anywhere with Logan at all.)

Patton let out a long breath.

“We can’t keep doing this, Logan,” he said quietly.

Logan said nothing.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” said Patton, “I know it makes you uncomfortable. I don’t want to  _make_  you talk about it, because I  _know_  it makes you uncomfortable,”

“But  _this,”_ said Patton, his voice cracking, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. Logan closed his own, because he couldn’t bear to see it.

“ _This_  can’t happen again,” said Patton brokenly, “It’s not good for us. It’s not good for  _Thomas_ ,”

“Of course,” said Logan mechanically, “You are correct,”

Neither of them said anything else for several seconds, and Logan blinked his eyes back open to find Patton watching him with a miserable expression.

“It won’t happen again,” said Logan.

“We all keep saying that,” said Patton, “And yet, it keeps happening,”

The ‘you keep doing this’ went entirely unspoken but Logan heard it, loud and clear.

“I will endeavor to remain in my room more often,” said Logan impassively, which was apparently the wrong thing to say.

“See,  _that_ ,” Patton’s face twisted in frustration, his hands balling into fists, and suddenly Logan remembered that Patton was  _Emotions_ , not  _Positive Emotions_.

“ _That_  is the  _exact opposite_  of a solution,” said Patton furiously, “That’s ignoring the problem. That’s sticking your fingers in your ears and hoping it goes away, which is  _obviously not working_ ,”

“I know,” said Logan thickly, and he  _did_ , he knew it wasn’t working but what else could he do? The jealousy was inherently irrational, there  _was_  no solution. He couldn’t  _make_  Patton care about him as much as he cared about others, or  _any_ of them as much as they cared about each other, and even if he could he  _wouldn’t_  because- because-

Because they deserved better anyway.

So the only reasonable course of action would be for Logan to  _fucking control himself_  which he was, clearly, incapable of doing successfully.

“So we need to do  _something_ ,” said Patton desperately, “Anything, even if it doesn’t work. Just try something,”

Anything. Even if it didn’t work. But Logan already knew nothing would work, and the idea of doing something utterly futile felt simply… exhausting.

“I’m afraid it would- it would make the most sense to simply confine myself away from the rest of you,” said Logan, “I am quite clearly making you very unhappy,”

“And you think never seeing you, you think- what cutting yourself off from the rest of us, you think that would make us happy?”

Logan blinked.

“I- presumably?” said Logan, “If my presence makes you unhappy, yes, it follows that my absence would do the opposite,”

“We’re not unhappy because you’re  _with us_  Logan, we’re unhappy because you’re  _hurting_ ,” said Patton desperately, “We’re upset because  _you’re_ upset and we  _love you_ ,”

The words made Logan feel something nebulous and fragile, that may have been positive or negative but certainly wasn’t  _pleasant_. Some kind of… nausea, equally pleased ad distressed, if such an emotion existed. He ignored it.

“Then the solution remains that I should… retreat from family plans. Until I have control over this… issue,”

Patton dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He looked… tired. Very, very tired.

“I’m sorry,” said Logan. He’d never sounded quite so small.

Patton slumped.

“I just want to help,” he said desperately, “I don’t understand why you won’t let me  _help_. This is my- this is my  _thing_ , Logan,”

“No, it  _isn’t_ , it’s  _mine_. The problem is clearly me,”

“You are  _not_  a problem,” said Patton, “The problem isn’t  _what you are,_  it’s  _how_  we’re handling this,”

And somehow, that was just too much.

“This is not a  _we_  situation!” Logan exclaimed, “Because  _we_  are not a we. I am me, over here, by myself, and the rest of you are you, together. Without me.  _That_  is the fact of the matter,”

Patton looked stricken.

“That’s  _not_  true,” said Patton, “We love you-”

“I  _know!_ ”

“Then why-”

“Because you love each other  _more!_ ”

Patton fell silent. Logan, frustrated by his outburst, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath.

“Fine,” he said, “You win. I am jealous that you like each other better than me,”

Patton was silent for several seconds, and when he spoke his voice was ragged.

“Why on  _earth_  would you think that?” said Patton.

“I have confirmed it a variety of ways,” said Logan flatly, “It is no secret that none of you enjoy my company, save possibly Virgil, and it has been both verbally and writtenly established that you and Virgil-”

Logan voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before continuing.

“Virgil is your best friend,” he said, “And presumably you both prefer Roman to me, as well, especially after this afternoons catastrophic outburst. Roman also described Virgil as his best friend, and we all know he cannot stand me,”

He sighed, adjusting his glasses before dropping his hands and staring at them.

“I am being irrational, and unfair to the rest of you,” he said quietly, “It is not as if I can…  _make you-”_

Make them  _what_ , what did he even think he was going to say?

“You are well with in your rights to choose optimal friends, and I am a clearly unsuitable choice,”

And, because Logan just couldn’t seem to stop talking he added.

“Especially for you,”  and he was mortified to discover that his voice had become quite thick, “I would be a… a frankly terrible best friend,”

He swallowed, waiting. Because Logan had finally done it, hadn’t he, finally laid out an argument so logical Patton couldn’t possibly refute it. It did not feel like a victory, somehow.

“Logan,” said Patton firmly.

“What, Patton?” replied Logan. He just wanted this conversation to be over.

“I don’t have a  _favorite_ ,” said Patton quietly.

Logan froze. Something traitorously close to hope flared in his chest before being doused in cold reality.

Because Patton was clearly lying.

“Having a best friend is normal,” said Logan, even thought the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, “And by it’s very title defines itself as a favorite. As such, neither you nor Virgil and Roman have done anything to warrant my behavior. It is a natural inclination-”

“I  _don’t_ , Logan, I mean it. Just because I love all of you  _differently_ doesn’t mean I love one of you  _more,”_

Logan considered.

“Different… how?” he said quietly.

“Well- yeah, Virgil’s my best friend. And Roman, he’s- I love him more like a brother, maybe, or even a twin, we’re always sort of- playing off of each other, like improv. And-”

Patton cut off.

“And,” he tried again, but didn’t get any further.

“And me?” Logan prompted. His voice was shaking, though Logan couldn’t have identified the emotion in it if you paid him money.

Patton stared, his eyes flitting back and forth between Logan’s. Logan didn’t realize how close they’d gotten until Patton reached up and placed his hand gingerly on Logan’s face.

“Can I kiss you?”

Logan suddenly felt very faint. He seemed to have up and misplaced his vocal chords.

“You can say no,” said Patton, his hand just barely retreating, and Logan was speaking before he’d thought it through in the slightest.

“Why the  _fuck_  would I say no?” he breathed, bring his own hands up to tangle in Patton’s hair.

And then they were kissing, and Logan felt a great deal more dizzy but he didn’t want to stop, got the impression he very well might  _not_ stop, for minutes or hours or as long as Patton wanted, as long as Patton kept making soft noises and sighs into Logan’s mouth and smiling against Logan’s lips and running his hands across Logan’s neck.

“Patton,” whispered Logan, nearly delirious and without even the vaguest control over his voice, “Patton, Patton, precious, sweet Patton-”

Patton muttered something he certainly wouldn’t have under normal circumstances, swearing in a voice that somehow sounded like a prayer, and then managed to get even closer to Logan in spite of the fact that there hadn’t really been any space left between them anyway.

Eventually, they did separate, with twin breathless inhales, but neither of them loosened their hold on the other. Their foreheads remained pressed together, Logan’s hand moving restlessly from Patton’s hair to his cheek to his wrist and down his forearm and to his waist and back. He couldn’t seem to stop himself touching Patton, anywhere he could reach. The idea of letting Patton go bordered on incomprehensible.

“Like that,” said Patton faintly, “I love you like that,”

“Oh,” said Logan, totally ineloquent and his voice barely more than a croak.

Patton giggled, maybe fond or maybe just nervous.

“And it’s  _definitely_  not less,” he finished.

Logan found he couldn’t even manage single syllables anymore. Instead, he kissed Patton again.

* * *

The others had vacated the living room for this, and Logan appreciated it, considering he could barely bring himself to look at Virgil to start.

Virgil wasn’t saying anything, and he wasn’t looking at Logan either, just examining his thumb with a scowl on his face and occasionally picking at the nail bed.

“I understand that yesterday,” said Logan thickly, finally reaching the point he truly couldn’t look at Virgil any longer, “I did something very hurtful. You have my sincerest apologies,”

Virgil didn’t seem to react in the corner of Logan eye, and Logan continued.

“I snapped at you, and referred to you in a way I knew was distressing to you. There was no excuse for my behavior, and I-”

Logan’s voice broke on the syllable, and Virgil did move then but Logan didn’t turn, determined to finish.

“I  _swear_  it wont happen again,” he said, “And if there is  _anything_  I can do to make it up to you, you need only ask,”

Virgil didn’t say anything for almost thirty seconds – Logan counted – but Logan could feel Virgil’s gaze boring into the side of his head.

“You know,” said Virgil, “I think I actually believe you this time,”

Logan flinched.

“No, hey, L,” said Virgil softly, nudging Logan’s arms, “I wasn’t being a dick, I meant- I meant you seem a little less like you’re about to pop like an overblown balloon,”

Logan looked up at him, and Virgil looked – not quite  _fine_ , there was still a slightly pained tinge to his expression, but forgiving, certainly.

“You talked to Patton, I’m guessing?” said Virgil.

Logan’s brow furrowed.

“How did you-?”

“One, you’ve been having a total breakdown and you should have talked to Patton from the start,” said Virgil dryly, “And two, you and Patton pining like love-struck high schoolers had gotten so obvious  _Princey_  noticed,”

Logan’s ears burned with embarrassment.

“But I really am glad you figured it out,” said Virgil, “Wish you’d been maybe a little less of an asshole while doing it, but, you know. Not got a whole lot of room to talk about that, over here. Baby steps,”

Logan’s brow furrowed.

“You have- that is, you seem to have a decent amount of room around you on the couch-?”

“I take it back, you’re still an asshole,” said Virgil, but considering he was grinning, Logan felt like he could be reasonably comfortable disregarding the actual words.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [ tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors ](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) over on tumblr, feel free to stop by and say hello!


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